"Maya, we're going to bed. Come give us a hug," her dad called to her from the living room. It was nine o'clock on a quiet Saturday night.
Maya emerged from her room in her M&M nightgown, ready to distribute hugs. He pulled her to him, smoothing back her dark, wavy hair that cascaded over her shoulders, then planted a kiss on her forehead. "Night, night, angel."
"Night," she responded, giving him a peck on the cheek.
"Pleasant dreams," Maya’s mother, said, pulling her in.
"Goodnight.” Maya looked remarkably like her mother. They both had bronzed skin from the Native American blood that ran through her mother's side.
"Get some rest." Dad tucked her hair behind her ear. "You have finals to study for."
Maya nodded. "I plan on acing them." She gave them a charismatic smile and batted her dark lashes.
Maya's older brother smirked from the couch with a knowing look, rolling his eyes. His feet were propped on the coffee table and he stretched, yawned, and snatched his baseball cap from his head to scratch his messy, dark locks.
"Night, Roy," she said, glancing at him.
"Yea, night," he sarcastically replied.
Maya headed back to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She pulled the nightgown off, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Underneath she wore a light blue tank top with the word PINK on it and a pair of short shorts. She leaned in to her mirror while shaping her black eyeliner.
There was a loud rapping on her window that made her jump. Spinning around, she saw her best friend Bella beaming at her. “Hey!” Bella said through the glass. She held up her cell phone.
Maya unfastened the latch and pulled the window open. "Quiet! My parents are going to hear.”
Bella catapulted over the windowsill. "Okay, chill! Guess who’s trying to get your number?"
“Who?” She couldn’t help being curious, even if she wasn’t interested in a relationship at the moment.
“The hottie from the smoothie place, Brandon.” She said his name like she was saying it to a five-year-old. “He’s Snapchatting me right now.”
Maya rolled her eyes and continued putting on makeup. “No thanks.” Bella was always trying to play matchmaker.
"Seriously, Maya, you haven’t had a boyfriend in ages. He just sent me a pic. Wanna see?"
Maya shrugged, turning her attention to the screen as Bella clicked on the message. It popped open to a picture of him in his underwear. Their mouths flopped open like goldfish as the picture disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
“Bella!” Maya face-palmed, cheeks flushing. “What an introduction!”
“Oh, crap!” Her eyebrows turned upward. “I thought he was going to send a pic of his dreamy eyes, or a shot of his biceps.”
Maya pursed her lips together. “I guess I leave the impression I’m only good for swapping inappropriate pictures with. What do you think he was thinking?”
“Well, um… I don’t think that’s much of a mystery, but I’ll play along. Maybe he thought the picture was worth a thousand words?” she said sarcastically, trying to coerce a smile.
Maya rolled her eyes. “I can only think of two: not interested.”
“Maybe he has a hard time expressing emotions over text?” Bella joked.
“Really?” She tried not to crack, but Bella had a way of brightening her mood.
“So, your first impression?”
They broke into laughter, but quickly went quiet as they heard her parents stirring upstairs.
“Shhh!” They listened for a moment until she thought it was safe, and whispered, “He’s desperate, obviously.” She turned back to the mirror, putting on her mascara. “Why do guys think we want to see that?”
“I know, right? Just forget him.” Bella scrolled through her messages. “I’ll find you someone worth while.”
“I’m not in a hurry to meet anyone. Honestly, I’ve lost too much faith in the male species. I’ve yet to find one that isn’t a wheezing bag of bungholes.” She applied some blush to her cheeks.
Bella flopped onto the bed and propped her head on her hand. "Maya," she said, talking in a fake, girly tone, "paint me like one of your French girls."
"Bella, stop. I'm serious. I'm going to be in a buttload of trouble if my parents come down here. Make yourself useful.” She handed her a brush. “Help me get ready. Put a bump in my hair."
Bella ran her fingers through Maya's thick waves. "Your hair is so gorgeous, you really don't have to do anything. You look like a model and you don't even try, unlike me." Bella sighed and added bobby pins and hairspray to Maya's luscious locks; she teased the strands and formed them into a bump before adding more hairspray.
Maya glided on a final touch of lipstick.
"Is this the graphic you made for Marshal's band?" Bella gasped, picking up a sketch off Maya's art table. It was a life-like drawing of some juniors from their high school who had somewhat begged her to create it so they could promote their band.
"Yep. That's it."
"Amazing. I would give my brother away for this kind of talent."
"Bella, you would give your brother away for a half-eaten hamburger," she replied, bringing her friend back to reality. "In fact, when you were five you tried to convince the neighbor the stork left him on his doorstep."
She laughed. "Yeah, I do remember. I was cute.” She averted her gaze to Maya’s dresser. “When I have more time, you'll have to show me how you make these sculptures." She lifted a pyramid-shaped object. There were dozens of them in various shapes, made up of miscellaneous materials, sitting around her room.
"They're not sculptures, they're three-dimensional puzzles," Maya corrected.
"Well, whatever they are, you've been obsessed with making them ever since I can remember. You took apart the Rubik's Cube so you could see the inner workings once. Then you made this model of it."
"I don't obsess. It's a fascination," she said, snatching it from her hand and placing it with the others.
"Well, whatever. The way you close your eyes while you're making them seems obsessive."
"Bella, that's how I concentrate. I have a better focus and technique when I make things with my eyes closed. I can’t explain it."
"It looks weird. Weird and obsessive. Hey, your eagle painting is almost finished. It's looking good." Bella put her arms out to mimic a bird with its wings spread. "Look at him, flying over the snow-capped mountains. He's amazing."
"Thanks." Maya screwed the cap back onto the open bottle of paint. "I hope this bottle didn't dry up. Hey, look what time it is." She glanced at the clock on her wall.
"Oh, geez."
Something thumped on the window, making them both jump. Maya had only seen a shadow of something small, like a bird.
"What was that?" Maya walked over to catch a glimpse. There was nothing out of the ordinary in her backyard. Storm clouds were eminent and there was a cool breeze.
Bella went to investigate. "I don't see anything. Let's get going." She flung the window open without a care and propelled herself—feet first—out the window while holding the sketch of Marshal and his band.
When she landed, the wind kicked up and blew her hair and jacket, which flapped in the wind.
Maya had a gut feeling something wasn't right, and when she had that feeling she was usually spot on.
Bella motioned for her to follow, moving her lips to say, "C'mon," but her voice was inaudible through the wind.
Maya hesitated then shook her head.
Bella nodded and snatched her hand, tugging.
Her stomach hit the windowsill. "Oof."
"We are going!" Bella said.
Against her better judgement, Maya jumped out the window, forgetting to close it behind her. The two girls traipsed off to Marshal's house.
In the meantime, a bat, which had been resting under the roof above her bedroom after a long journey northeast, seized the opportunity to fly into the open window, taking shelter in her lampshade.
2. The P
uzzle Box
Maya’s father sat her and Roy down in the living room after they came home from school. "I have something…” he fidgeted. “Something I need to explain," he whispered in short breaths. He stood, then sat, folding his hands. " The doctors called. She has contracted something that is making her health deteriorate, but the doctors can’t pinpoint what it is…”
She pulled her fingers to her lips, feeling her heart sink.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “We don't know how long she has...” he continued. “There’s no diagnosis... but whatever it is... it’s affecting her internal organs. She has a couple months... maybe three."
"She can't die," Roy balled his fist. "She's too strong."
Dad reached for Roy’s hand. “The doctors have nothing to go on." He kept his voice low.
"No." Roy pulled away and Dad flinched.
Maya turned to look at her brother whose shoulders trembled as he began to sob. She wrapped her arms around him, losing her composure.
Their father's face crumpled as tears flooded down his face. After a few moments he regained his composure, wiping his eyes. "Neither of you are to see her."
"What?" Maya and Roy exclaimed as they sat up.
"She wants you to remember her the way she was.” He took in a deep breath. “She doesn’t want you to watch as her health deteriorates. It will just destroy her.”
Maya sat forward on the edge of the couch. “What about the way it will destroy us not to be able to see her?”
“Exactly,” Roy said.
Dad looked up at the ceiling. “Your mother’s oldest sister, Ashlyn, passed away when she was a teenager. She said it was the most horrifying experience in her life.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “She was healthy until she contracted an unknown condition. Day by day she deteriorated until she passed. Your mother and your Aunt Roslyn brought Ashlyn meals, cleaned her sheets, and helped her with… Well, things girls their age shouldn’t have had to help with. They grew up faster than they should have. Besides, we don’t know if it’s contagious, and if anyone contracts what she has they’ll suffer the same fate.”
Maya felt her anger rising. Her father always told her what to do and how to think. She never questioned him, but this was asking too much. "But she’s our mom!"
Roy looked from Maya to their father. "Yeah, we’re not just going to stop seeing her. We can wear gloves and masks.”
Maya felt validated. Her brother had her back. It was two against one. They couldn’t fail.
"I forbid it!" Dad yelled.
Maya felt her heart jump at his tone. When he made up his mind about something there was no changing it. Questioning him only made him angry.
He calmed himself and spoke quietly again. "I've hired a nurse to care for her and bring her meals. The door will be locked. Promise me you won't try to see her."
Maya pressed her lips together and folded her arms. "No!"
"You can't stop us," Roy stood up and put his hands on his hips.
Dad rose from his seat, matching Roy’s gaze.
Maya’s eyes widened. They had never taken a stand against their father like this. If they tried, their privileges were taken away, but what did that matter? Without being able to see their mother what good were privileges?
"If you go against her wishes, I'll send her away to a hospice and you won't know where to find her.”
They gasped.
A tear slid down Maya’s cheek. "You wouldn't!"
"I will.” He stared her down. It was clear he meant what he said. “It’ too risky to have you near her.”
Roy took a step back. His face was red, and arms were folded.
Maya ran to her room, slamming the door behind her. She reached under her bed and pulled out the first Kachina doll she could find. It was Hon, the bear clan Kachina. He had the body of a human and the head of a bear. The paper that accompanied him in his box said he was known for strength, and he was able to cure the sick.
Her mom had tried to throw away the Kachinas that Maya’s grandmother sent her and Roy over the years, but she had saved each one on trash day, hiding them under her bed. Mom called them silly and superstitious toys, and not to believe in them. Her grandmother sent them many things, including dream catchers. Her mother had been so mad when they opened the gift that she threw it into their fireplace, saying they needed to educate themselves and forget the old ways.
When Maya visited her extended family, she was invited to listen to the storytelling around the bonfire by their Native American elder friend, and to dress up for their tribal dances, but her mother had made them go to bed before the festivities started.
Maya toyed with Hon as she cried, wishing he would send healing to her mother, no matter how silly her mother told her it was. The doctors who knew science had failed her mother. What else was there to believe in?
A few days later, she climbed the stairwell to her parents’ bedroom and stood outside the half-open door to see her father leaning over her mom while holding a tissue to her nose. She looked weak. Moments later, he noticed Maya standing there.
"Your mother doesn't want you here," her father yelled.
His words stung. Her throat tightened.
"I-I just came to see if I could help," Maya stammered. "I miss her. I miss you, Mom!"
"You're not allowed in here! She's not the same. Her appearance will upset you!" he replied, rising to shut the door in her face.
What she hated the most was that he was right; her mom's appearance had upset her. He was too stubborn to understand that didn’t matter.
At a loss, she went downstairs. Roy sat on the couch. His hair hung down past the nape of his neck. Their father kept reminding him he needed a trim, but something held him back. It seemed to Maya he was growing it out to hide himself behind it—to mask the pain.
To clear her mind, Maya went to her room and put the final touches on her eagle painting. Closing her eyes, she felt as if she weren't alone, like someone was watching her. It didn't feel intrusive; it was soothing, like a loving relative from far away. Her concentration was stronger when she only imagined how she painted.
It had been days since she had spoken to her mother and she already she felt an emptiness. She missed the moments she had spent with her, moments that had been taken for granted. The way she laughed and made breakfast. The way she came into her room to grab her laundry but sat on her bed to ask her how her day was. What was new? What boys was she crushing on?
There was a knock on her door.
Reluctantly, Maya laid down the paintbrush and opened it. She looked at her feet, hoping whatever her father wanted, it would be quick.
He held out a package. "It's something you've got in the mail, from Grandmother Oriel." The tone in his voice was unsuccessfully cheerful and hoarse. He tried to smile, but his eyes were pained.
She frowned, knowing the gift inside could cause controversy if her mother heard of it. Fortunately, her father never minded the tribal culture. In fact, he embraced it saying it was one of the things he had been attracted to about her mother. "You won’t mention this to Mom?"
Secrets of the Anasazi Page 2